


Balancing Act

by hpstrangelove



Category: The Administration - Manna Francis
Genre: BDSM, Dubious Consent, M/M, Violence, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpstrangelove/pseuds/hpstrangelove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was such a fine balancing act. Warrick knew a lot about Toreth, but then something unforeseen would happen – a wrong touch, an innocent word – and Toreth would panic, unable to handle the feeling of intimacy. This time, after Toreth leaves Warrick once again, a stranger moves in to take advantage of the situation.  Soon Warrick finds that playing the game with someone else isn’t as much fun, and in fact, could be deadly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balancing Act

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sestra-Prior](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sestra-Prior), [Trobadora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trobadora/gifts).



> Takes place during the weeks after _[All Work And No Play.](http://www.mannazone.org/zone/admin/index.html)_
> 
> So I wanted to write for Yuletide this year but for personal reasons, couldn't sign up. Instead, Sestra-Prior and I decided to have our own private Yuletide. She gave me the prompt: Toreth and Warrick breaking up and Warrick getting hooked up with some guy who pushes him farther than he wants to go (BDSM) and Toreth has to save him.
> 
> I hope this fits. I had a great time writing this. I love these characters and the world Manna has created. I owe her many thanks for being so gracious as to let her readers play in her sandbox.
> 
> And even though this story is for Sestra, I'd also seen Trobador's request for a story in this fandom. I'm adding this to the Yuletide collection as a gift for you also. Anyone who loves the Administration Series has a special place in my heart. I hope you enjoy it too.
> 
> Many thanks to [JoanWilder](http://joanwilder.livejournal.com/) for the extremely last minute beta.

~*~

 **Balancing Act**

It was such a fine balancing act. He knew a lot about Toreth, but then something unforeseen would happen – a wrong touch, an innocent word – and Toreth would bolt. Warrick always wondered, each time it happened, if _this_ would be the time that he couldn’t get Toreth to come back.

Things had been rough at SimTech during the weeks when they were evaluating the Yes program. Toreth had tried to see him several times, but Warrick hadn’t been able to give him his full attention. When the difficult decision had finally been made to suspend the program, Warrick invited Toreth to SimTech to see the Yes in action before the code was switched off and removed.

He’d thought Toreth had enjoyed it – mostly. There were a few times when one of those looks would pass over Toreth’s face and he’d wondered if he’d perhaps miscalculated, that Toreth would actually be bothered by seeing Warrick being fucked by another Warrick – reminders of Girardin maybe? But then Toreth had joined in and everything seemed fine.

When they left SimTech, Toreth had come back to Warrick’s flat and spent the night, all of the day Saturday, Saturday night, and Sunday. It had been a fantastic weekend, like taking a cool drink of water after walking in the hot sun for hours on end.

It must have been too much closeness for Toreth to handle though, because all of Warrick’s calls the following week were filtered by Sara. He could tell something was wrong, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t pry it out of her. Finally, she’d called him on Friday, saying she had a message from Toreth to meet him at Crystals, a bar a few blocks away from I&I. Warrick should have known then that there was trouble to come.

Toreth was thirty minutes late, which wasn’t unusual, but what _was_ unusual was how haggard he looked, like he hadn’t slept in days. He glanced over at Warrick, who was sitting at a booth, then walked straight to the bar and ordered a drink. He downed it quickly, then ordered another which he carried over to Warrick and sat down, looking exhausted.

They never talked about Toreth’s work. Warrick knew what Toreth did, but as long as they didn’t talk about it, then Warrick didn’t have to think about the fact that he was sleeping with someone who legally tortured and killed people for a living. But seeing the condition Toreth was in, he came close to breaking the rule and asking what had happened. Toreth spoke first before Warrick had a chance.

“Look, I know you don’t want to know about work, but something happened this week and I have to tell you –”

“Stop – right now,” Warrick interrupted, his voice low and cold. He stared at Toreth, daring him to continue. It was the most difficult thing he’d ever had to do. He wanted to know what was wrong – it was so tempting to let Toreth speak about it, just this once. But if he gave in on this, it would be sending Toreth a message, a message that Warrick might give in on something else – like the safe word. His mind quickly flashed back to a few weeks ago, to a small room filled with chairs, to the feel of Toreth’s hand on his arm, squeezing painfully tight, to Toreth’s fist raised to strike. It was one of the first times he’d been truly afraid of Toreth losing control – truly afraid that if Toreth _did_ lose it, he wouldn’t be able to tell Toreth that was it, they were over.

“You know the rules,” Warrick continued. “I won’t discuss it with you. Why did you ask me to come here when you knew I wouldn’t want to hear about it?”

Toreth paused, then shrugged. “You were the one leaving messages all week. Anyway, it wasn’t really my case – I just got dragged into it and – ”

Warrick made to get up, but Toreth saw the movement and beat him to it. “Forget it. I’m going. Stay here and finish your drink. Sorry you came down here for nothing.”

“Toreth, wait.” Warrick tried to grab his arm, but Toreth shook it off and walked quickly out the front doors.

Warrick’s first impulse was to go after him, but that would no doubt cause Toreth to run that much faster. The problem might be work – or it might be something entirely different and work was the excuse Toreth was using to avoid him.

He decided to give Toreth some time. If he didn’t come around by Sunday, he could give Sara a call, at least verify if there had been something going on at work to put Toreth in such a mood.

“You’re Dr. Warrick, right?”

Warrick looked up to see an attractive man standing next to his table, drink in hand. For a moment, he thought Toreth had come back, but then the business suit the man was wearing registered in his mind and he realized it wasn’t Toreth after all.

“Yes, I’m Dr. Warrick,” he replied, searching his memory to try and recall if he knew who this man was. “Have we met?”

“I saw you at a conference recently, but we didn’t get introduced. I do security training simulations. I’ve been keeping track of your advances in sim technology because I think there are practical applications to my field of work. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm being rude. My name is Thomas Carter."

The man held out his hand and Warrick shook it. It felt warm and strong. He didn’t have anything to do, now that Toreth had left him sitting here. What harm would it do to talk to someone about computers?

“It’s nice to meet you. Please, would you like to join me?”

They spent several hours talking, about Warrick’s days when SimTech had first started and about how Carter’s love of playing computer games had influenced his choice to go into security training simulation. Warrick couldn’t help but compare Carter to Toreth, how different, how – refreshing – it was to have someone he could talk to who understood the technical hurdles he’d overcome in the development of the sim…how refreshing it was to not have to watch every word that he spoke in case it might push one of Toreth’s panic buttons.

When he glanced at his watch and saw it was 10:30, the stress of the day, plus the evening's drinks on an empty stomach, took hold.

“Well, Mr. Carter, it’s getting late. I really should be getting home. I’ve enjoyed talking with you this evening.”

“Thank you for putting up with me, Dr. Warrick. I should be going too.”

They both stood and made their way to the door. Once outside, Carter turned to Warrick. “I’m honoured that you’d give me so much of your time. I really only stopped by your table to shake your hand.”

“I had an enjoyable evening. I don’t often meet people outside of work who appreciate the technical aspects of the sim. They can understand the basics of what it does, but not how much effort has been involved in getting us where we are today.”

There was an awkward pause as Carter looked down a moment, then back up into Warrick’s eyes.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but…would you like to come back to my flat?”

Warrick hesitated. Carter took hold of his wrist and squeezed lightly. A tingle went up Warrick’s spine at the touch. There were still light bruises there, left over from his and Toreth’s time together last Saturday.

“I know what this is, what did this,” Carter told him, giving his wrist another squeeze. “Handcuffs? Or manacles of some kind, yes?”

Warrick could barely breathe. Until now, Toreth had been the only one to make him feel this way. He was confused by what was happening. The man looked like Toreth, though, so it was understandable that he would react like this.

“I…” Warrick’s mouth was dry. He licked his lips, feeling himself getting hard under Carter’s intense gaze.

He tried to speak again. “I have – someone…” _Someone who wasn’t here, someone who ran away any time there was the slightest hint that they had something more substantial going on between them than just fucking…_

Carter leaned in, keeping hold of his wrist, moving close enough so that their lips touched, close enough until he could feel Carter’s tongue sliding inside his mouth, deep, exploring – delicious.

Warrick tried to pull away – something in the back of his mind said he’d made a promise – but Carter moved his free hand to behind Warrick’s neck and held him there. The hand holding his wrist moved behind his lower back, forcing their hips together, Carter unmistakably hard against Warrick’s own erection.

They were both breathing fast when Carter broke the kiss. “Come home with me tonight. I’ll take good care of you. I don’t want to take your ‘someone’s’ place, but he’s not here – and I am.”

Warrick felt hot, confused, overwhelmed by the sensation of being held firmly in this man’s arms. He’d promised Toreth something, hadn’t he? He couldn’t remember now. Did it matter? Toreth had walked out on him – again. He’d probably already picked someone up at another bar, was already upstairs in a hotel room, already in bed, already fucking…

“I’ll come. I…I don’t think I can drive, though. Do you have a car?”

Carter had let go of his wrist but kept his arm around Warrick’s waist. They were walking across the street now, towards the car park. “Yes, I have my own car. This way.”

Warrick had to lean on Carter to keep his balance. He must have had too much to drink. He hadn’t really kept track of how many; he’d been so caught up with talking to Carter that he hadn’t bothered to count. He was sure he’d been careful, though, to not overdo it on an empty stomach. He hadn’t eaten because he thought he and Toreth would be going out later to dinner.

Carter helped him into the passenger seat of the car. It felt warm and comfortable. Carter got in on the driver’s side and they left the car park. He placed his hand on Warrick’s thigh as they drove. It felt warm and comfortable too.

He must have dozed off because he didn’t remember the drive, yet when he looked at the time displayed on the dash, it showed 11:15.

The car stopped outside a dark, deserted-looking building. Carter got out and came around to open the door for him, giving him his hand to steady him as he got out.

“Is this your flat?” Warrick asked, looking around.

“I stay here on weekends sometimes. My place is on the top floor. It’s a nice view even if it’s not of the entire city.”

“It doesn’t look like anyone else lives here.”

Carter smiled. “The warehouse was being converted to flats. The owner died and now the property’s tied up in legalities so no work has been done for several years. I like my privacy though, so I don’t mind that no one is around.”

The building they were entering was six stories high. There were stairs off to the left of the foyer as they entered, but they walked straight ahead to the lifts.

The lift doors opened onto a darkened hallway. Warrick could barely see, but Carter seemed to know where he was going and led them down to the end of the hall. Warrick could make out the red glow of a keypad and heard the _beep-beep_ sound as Carter entered a code into the security system, opening the door.

The flat was large – Warrick could feel the space rather than see it. It was too dark, but Carter found the light switch and the room was bathed in soft light.

They’d entered the sitting room. He could see the kitchen off to the right – there was no wall separating the two. Carter led him through the sitting room, down another small hall and into the bedroom.

Carter held his wrist again, leading him to the bed.

“Take your clothes off,” Carter told him.

Warrick hesitated. He wanted to do this – he liked the feel of Carter’s hand around his wrist – but he’d told someone something. “I promised…I said I wouldn’t…never again…” he began, but then he couldn’t remember what it was he wouldn’t do again as Carter started to unbutton his shirt for him.

“That’s all right. I’ll do it for you. Then you aren’t breaking your promise, are you?”

“I…I guess not. I don’t know.”

Warrick shivered when he felt the cool air caress his skin as his clothing was removed. It was like sex in the sim – it felt good, but something was missing. It was mechanical, passionless. His body was responding, but not his heart. This man wasn’t Toreth.

Carter kissed him again, pressing him back until Warrick felt the edge of the bed at his knees. He fell backwards, with Carter heavy on top of him, and he struggled to push Carter off. Damn, but the man was strong – as strong as Toreth. Very quickly, the cold feel of metal encircled his wrists and he heard a click as handcuffs closed, securing him to the headboard.

He tried for several moments to work his arms free, but it was futile. He gave up and lay still. Even though he was sure this wasn’t something he should be doing, he was hard, so hard it hurt.

Carter brushed his fingers along the side of Warrick’s face. “There, now. I told you I would take care of you. You like this, don’t you, feeling helpless?”

He did, Warrick liked it. He never took chances like this; he wasn’t like Toreth, going home with strangers every night. When he’d gone with Toreth that first time, it was only after thoroughly investigating and finding out who he was. He’d left Toreth’s name and the hotel information at SimTech as insurance, and he’d made sure Toreth knew it, too, in case he’d had any ideas about taking serious revenge for what had happened in the sim earlier that day.

But this man, this man could be anyone. He could really be dangerous, could really hurt him. And no one knew he was here.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Warrick said. “I can’t remember why, but I – ”

He didn’t even see the blow coming. Carter backhanded him hard, and the copper taste of blood filled his mouth. This was bad, very bad. Why had he allowed himself to be put in such a precarious position?

Carter got up from the bed and took off his shirt, then removed the belt from his trousers. Warrick glanced between Carter’s face and his hands as he folded the belt in half.

“Turn over.”

Warrick closed his eyes, swallowing hard, then with shaky movements, turned over onto his stomach, the chain between the handcuffs twisting around the rail of the headboard. He buried his face into the mattress and clenched his jaw tight. Toreth always knew what he could take, how to build up to more and more pain until it turned into ecstatic pleasure. Warrick was pretty sure Carter didn’t care about his pleasure.

The only warning he had of the coming strike was the sound of a swish as the belt moved through the air. Pain flooded over his back, and although he tried desperately, he couldn’t suppress a gasp. All the muscles in his body tensed, preparing for the next blow, but it was useless. Nothing could have prepared him for this kind of pain.

~*~

Toreth looked around the darkened flat. Where the fuck was he? It was just after ten. Not all that late, but Warrick wasn’t one to do the bar scene. He should be here.

Toreth was still upset about what had happened at the bar. He shouldn’t have walked out on Warrick. He should have made the stubborn man listen to him and made it clear that what he’d wanted to talk about wasn’t a case that he was working, but a case in Justice – where Toreth had been the accused.

Monday had started off like any normal day. He’d only had one interrogation, a straightforward extraction of names of some resisters. As soon as he’d arrived on Tuesday, though, Sara told him Tillotson wanted to see him right away. He hadn’t even had time for coffee, which put him in a bad mood. He couldn’t imagine what fault Tillotson had found with the case from the day before, so he was on the defensive as he entered the man’s office, never forgetting the way he'd felt the day he’d been confronted there by Howes from Psychoprogramming.

A Justice Officer was standing next to Tillotson’s desk when Toreth entered. Toreth didn’t recognize him.

“Toreth, there’s no easy way to say this,” Tillotson began. “You’ve been identified in a virtual lineup. The accuser is a woman named Andrea Spencer. She’s accusing you of rape.”

He was speechless at first, then he’d laughed. With as many willing and available partners out there, he’d never have to resort to raping anyone. But Tillotson and the Justice Officer didn’t see anything funny, and he knew he was in serious trouble.

If it had happened on one of his nights with Warrick, it would have been easy enough to prove it hadn’t been him. The night in question, though, had occurred during the weeks when Warrick had been preoccupied with evaluating the Yes project. Toreth had no idea whom he’d picked up that night or at which bar – he never asked for names. He had no alibi.

He’d spent all day Tuesday with Officer Harris of the Justice Department. Harris was younger than Toreth and seemed competent in doing his job. At least he didn’t appear to be holding any grudges against Toreth because he was a para-investigator.

When Toreth reviewed the video of Spencer’s report, he didn’t recognize her, but he couldn’t say for sure that they hadn’t had sex. She was attractive enough. Recently, anyone he’d slept with bore a remarkable similarity to Warrick – most had dark hair, dark eyes, long, dark lashes. Spencer fit that description. But he never looked closely enough at any of them to remember what exactly they looked like. He couldn’t say for sure he hadn’t slept with her, only that if he had, he knew he hadn’t raped her.

Spencer said she’d been having a drink at a bar, with her boyfriend, when they’d had an argument and he’d left her there. She still had most of her drink left, so she’d stayed to finish it. That was when Toreth supposedly walked over to her table and asked to join her. He knew her name and introduced himself as Thomas Carter, said he’d seen her at a recent conference, but she didn’t remember him. The man was attractive and friendly. They’d talked for about an hour and a half until she told him she needed to get home because she had to work the next day. They finished their drinks and he’d walked her outside, then asked if she’d like to come back to his flat. He’d kissed her before she had a chance to answer.

She couldn’t remember where the man had taken her. She must have passed out in the car and when she’d woken, the man was helping her out of the car and taking her into a dark building. She got the impression he was the only one living there. He took her inside his flat, then handcuffed her to the bed. He’d beaten her with his belt, then raped her as he held a knife to her throat the entire time. She’d passed out again after drinking some bottled water he’d given her, and when she’d finally come around, she was lying in the grass, fully dressed, hidden from sight by some bushes along a jogging path in Thorton Park.

Justice determined the man must have put something in one of her drinks, although when they’d done a toxin screen, they hadn’t found anything but the remains of a sedative, probably what had been in the water bottle that made her pass out. No semen was found – he’d used a condom – so no DNA.

The surveillance video of the car park at the bar showed the two of them getting into a dark sports car. Toreth had to admit from a distance the man looked eerily like him – same build, same hair style and color. But Toreth knew it couldn’t have been him. He didn’t own a suit like that, nor could he afford a car like that on a para-investigator’s pay.

Unfortunately, the car wasn’t so extravagant that many corporates couldn’t afford one, and it’d been too dark for the camera to be able to pick up a clear registration number. They’d searched the security files for the name of Thomas Carter, but the only hits they got had been on men either too old or too young to be the one who Spencer had met. Justice concluded the name must be fake.

It wasn’t until late Tuesday evening that he’d finally been able to prove his innocence. Actually, it had been Sara who rescued him once again. No one at Justice was talking about the case, so it had taken her a while to track down why he was being held. Within minutes she was over there demanding to see him. When she’d finally got through, she provided proof that on the night in question, she’d gone to Toreth’s flat with take-out and they’d spent the evening going over the files of prospective juniors who’d be at the end-of-training cattle call.

Officer Harris seemed disappointed, which was only to be expected. If it had been Toreth investigating, he’d have thought he was the right person too. But although he’d been cleared, he felt out of sorts the rest of the week. He’d learned later that there were two other similar cases. Justice thought they had a serial rapist on their hands. The other victims, a woman and a man, had filed the initial report but then refused to pursue it when they found their identities would be made public. Both reports stated that the man was tall, blond, and knew their names from meeting them at a recent conference. He’d also introduced himself as Thomas Carter.

What would have happened if the rape had occurred on another night, a night that Sara hadn’t been by? Or what if there hadn’t been the video in the car park? He wouldn’t have known for sure that he hadn’t had sex with the woman. What if one of the other victims had decided to testify and identified him the same way Spencer had? With as many nights as Toreth prowled the bars, there’d be no way he could prove his innocence.

It made him think about Warrick, too, and all the things they did. Even if it was consensual, he thought about how it would now look to Justice if they got wind of it. Spencer had been handcuffed to the bed, then beaten with the man’s belt. He’d seen the photos of the welts and bruises on her back, the red, raw skin around her wrists where she’d pulled against the cuffs. The photos had brought to mind similar images of Warrick, chained to the bed, the belt he’d given Warrick at New Year’s folded in half in Toreth’s’ hands… he never hit Warrick hard. Warrick wanted it – needed it. It wasn’t rape – but he didn’t think Justice would see it that way, no matter what Warrick told them.

It had bothered him all week and he’d avoided Warrick’s calls. He had to decide: was what he had with Warrick worth risking his job?

He tried to recall what his life had been like before Warrick, what it would be like again without him. He’d finally agreed to see Warrick tonight because he’d come to the conclusion that what he had with Warrick was worth the risks. He’d wanted to tell Warrick what had happened, why he’d been avoiding him, but before he’d had the chance, Warrick had thrown his little tantrum about not wanting to hear about Toreth’s work and it’d pissed him off.

So he'd walked out.

He should have gone back and explained. He should have _forced_ Warrick to listen, but he hated when Warrick pulled that sanctimonious crap on him, pretending he couldn’t bear to think of what Toreth did for a living. It was _because_ Toreth did what he did that Warrick wanted him.

So instead of going back, he’d walked around, finding another bar. He’d ordered a drink but left it sitting. The bar had been full of available and attractive women and men – _willing,_ available, attractive women and men. He couldn’t understand why the other man, the rapist, needed to force anyone to have sex. The man was attractive enough; he ought to be able to pick up anyone he wanted. But according to the report, the guy hadn’t even asked to take Spencer home until after they were already outside. He would have had to have drugged her drink _before_ he knew if she would willingly go home with him.

He understood then. The game that Warrick and he played, of Toreth forcing Warrick down, of Warrick struggling beneath him, acting as if he didn’t want it when in reality he wanted so badly for Toreth to hurt him that he’d beg for it and more – the game wasn’t a game for this other man. It was real.

Toreth had finished his drink and left. He might as well admit it. The only one he wanted to fuck tonight was Warrick. He’d hailed a taxi and went to Warrick’s flat.

Only Warrick wasn’t here.

Where the fuck was he? He couldn’t still be at the bar, could he? Toreth could sit here and wait, wait while Warrick had drinks with someone else, went home with someone else…what if he’d gone to Girardin’s?

No, Warrick had promised. He’d promised he wouldn’t do it again, not with Girardin, or anyone else.

Toreth called another taxi and headed back to the bar.

~*~

The taxi was pulling up to the entrance just as he saw Warrick kissing another man. He thought he was seeing things at first, but as the taxi stopped, there was no mistaking him.

Warrick had _promised!_

For several seconds he saw red, his anger burning hot, blurring his vision. He was going to kill Warrick this time, right there and then – kill the _both_ of them!

“Drive on!” he yelled, and the taxi pulled away from the curb. He sat back in the seat so that Warrick wouldn’t see him. Hardly a chance of that happening, though, the way he was pressing up against the other man, but the last thing he wanted was to appear to have been spying. How pathetic would that be?

He couldn’t help looking out the back window, trying to catch a glimpse of the man Warrick had betrayed him for. Then his heart skipped a beat as he took in the man’s features – tall, well-built, blond, in a suit. Uncannily similar in appearance to Toreth.

“Go around the block and come back,” he ordered. By the time they came down the street again, Toreth could see Warrick and the man walking across the street to the car park. Warrick wasn’t moving normally, though. He seemed to need the support of the man, leaning against him as they made their way to a car. A black sports car.

It had to be the man from the surveillance video of the car park, the man with Spencer.

His first impulse was to have the taxi block the exit, but then he remembered what Spencer had said about the guy having a knife. There wasn’t any telling what he might do to Warrick if he felt trapped. A cornered animal was the most dangerous.

Toreth searched his pocket for his comm and placed it in his ear at the same time as the black car pulled out onto the main street.

“Follow the black car just up ahead,” he instructed. “Don’t get too close. I don’t want him to spot us.”

He called Sarah. He couldn’t call Justice direct, not with Warrick in danger. He couldn’t take a chance of them not responding in time, or sending some junior officer out of spite because it was Toreth who was calling.

“Toreth?”

No – it was better to let Sarah do the calling while he concentrated on keeping Warrick in sight.

“Sara, this is an emergency. I need your full attention on this.”

He could hear noise, music in the background, then the sound of a door closing, and stillness. She must be out at a bar or restaurant somewhere.

“What’s wrong. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Listen carefully. I’m following the rapist, the one that woman, Spencer, accused me of being. I’m sure it’s him. He’s driving a black sports car and it’s the same type as the one in the video. But…” His mouth went dry at the thought of what he was about to say. “The guy’s got Warrick.”

He heard a quick intake of breath, then she took over.

“All right. I’ll call over to Justice and get them ready. Stay on the line. I’ll use my other comm.”

“Sara – he’s got Warrick.” Toreth was proud of himself, that he managed to keep his voice steady.

“I know. Don’t worry. I know who to call. I’m heading back to I&I right now.”

The automation system in the taxi was working flawlessly, thank fuck, and the sports car wasn’t going over the speed limit, so the taxi was able to follow without incident. Toreth could always have commandeered it and driven it himself if he’d wanted to, but the sensing mechanism of the taxi was more precise and could do a better job. Toreth needed the time to calm down and focus. He needed a plan.

~*~

The black car slowed to a stop in front of a dark, six-story warehouse. A developer’s aging sign on the front announced _City View – luxury flats available at pre-construction prices._

“Drive on by, turn the corner, then stop and let me out. Don’t leave. I may need you,” he instructed the taxi.

Toreth got out and stayed back in the shadows so he couldn’t be seen. He watched as the man helped Warrick out of the car and into the building. Sara had called him back as soon as she’d arrived at I&I and they’d kept the comm link open.

“He’s taken Warrick inside. There’s a sign up on the front of the building. Look up a development permit for a place called City View.”

There was a pause, then she replied. “It was a conversion of a warehouse complex, started eight years ago, but the owner, John Carter, died. It’s tied up in court with the heirs fighting over it.”

“Is that _the_ John Carter, of Carter and Weston Enterprises?”

“That’s the one, only the permit states the conversion is a private venture, not one funded by the corporation.”

As they talked, Toreth saw a light go on inside. “They’re on the top floor – it’s six stories but I don’t see a way up from the outside. How long until Justice is here?”

Another pause – he could hear her speaking on the other comm. “They’re about fifteen minutes behind you.”

“Damn! I can’t wait. He could…” Toreth didn’t continue. He didn’t want to think about what could be happening to Warrick up there. “I’m going inside. Make sure Justice knows I’ll be there. The last thing I need is for them to come into the place, guns blazing and they shoot me instead of the suspect.”

He kept low, crouching behind the parked cars along the curb until he was opposite the entrance to the building. He stood and crossed the street at a leisurely pace, in case the man happened to look down, so that he wouldn’t appear suspicious. Once across the street, he found he could see the registration of the car fairly well, even in the dim light.

“Sara, run the registration number: LGT 934. See who the fuck owns that car.”

“Okay, hold on a sec…here it is. It belongs to an Adam Carter, age thirty-four. Wow, he does look a lot like you, too…wait a minute.”

He could hear the click of her nails on the keyboard as she typed.

“His security file says he runs his own company, Security Solutions. He trains corporates in self-defense using computer simulation. And remember I told you the building owner had been John Carter? Adam Carter is his son – Adam _Thomas_ Carter.”

“Well that explains where ‘Thomas’ Carter came from and why he’s living here. Let Justice know so they can start getting the proper warrants going. Since this guy’s corporate, we need to be sure everything’s in order. I’m going in now – wish me luck.”

He tried the front door. It was unlocked. It opened soundlessly. The lift was straight ahead but he chose to use the stairs. There didn’t appear to be anyone else living in the building and the movement of the lift might be heard.

He had to pause to catch his breath when he reached the top floor. The stairs weren’t the reason – he worked out at the gym often enough to not have six flights bother him. No, his fast breathing and pounding heart were, loath as he was to admit it, fueled by his worry that he’d be too late, that when he opened the door to the flat, that he’d see them, actually _see_ Warrick being fucked by someone else.

The hall was dark. He knew the light had gone on in the corner flat, the one facing the street, so he crept slowly along the wall, taking his time and feeling his way in case there was something on the floor that might trip him up. Eventually, he could make out the red glow coming from the LED on the security keypad outside the flat’s door.

“Sara,” he subvocalized – thank goodness he was well practiced at using the comm with just the throat microphone so that he didn’t have to actually speak. “The flat’s security is active. I need a master code to get in. Is it on file?”

“It should be. Hold on…okay, try 646646.”

He punched in the code. The _beep-beep_ sounded like gunshots echoing in the silence of the hall.

Toreth turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open a crack, listening for any movement, any telltale sign to indicate he’d been noticed. He held his breath…

His stomach lurched as he heard it – muffled pleas…begging…crying…

It was Warrick – Carter was _hurting_ Warrick.

He quickly entered the flat, trying to move as quietly as possible, barely noticing the living room and kitchen as he headed down the hall, towards the sound of Warrick’s voice. He stopped outside the room, plastering himself against the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. He didn’t want Carter to see him, but he had to risk a look around the doorway. He had to know their approximate positions in the room before he could decide what to do next.

It took every ounce of self-control he had to not rush into the room at the sight. Warrick was naked, face down on the bed, his wrists handcuffed to the headboard. Carter was sitting next to him, running his hands up and down Warrick’s back – and in one of his hands, Carter held a knife.

Toreth stepped back into the hallway. The bed was against the far wall – too much open space for Toreth to make it there in time to be sure Carter wouldn’t use the knife on Warrick. He leaned his head back, trying to work out what to do. He had to get Carter away from Warrick, and he had to do it soon.

As he stared up at the ceiling, a small red dot of light caught his attention – the smoke detector. There’d be one in the kitchen area too.

He made his way back to the kitchen, and taking off his shirt, placed it over the burners on the stove. He turned all four burners on high, then went back into the living room and hid against the wall near where the hallway opened out. It wasn’t long before his shirt burst into flames. Smoke billowed upward, and the piercing wail of the smoke alarm siren sounded throughout the flat.

A few seconds later, Carter came running down the hallway and stopped, seeing the fire in the kitchen, apparently not knowing what to do. Toreth attacked, but Carter heard him and ducked in time to avoid Toreth’s fist.

Toreth hadn’t been prepared for Carter to be able to fight back so effectively – his goal had been to get him away from Warrick, then take him down. Each time Toreth threw a punch, Carter blocked it, throwing his own in return. In the back of his mind he recalled what Sara had said Carter did for a living – corporate self-defense training. He really shouldn’t have forgotten that.

The room was filling up with smoke. He inhaled a lung-full of dirty air and began to cough. It was the opening Carter had been waiting for. He twisted down and bent forward, plowing into Toreth’s chest with his right shoulder. The impact sent Toreth backward. He landed on the edge of the coffee table, then fell to the floor. Carter was on top of him.

Toreth didn’t have very good leverage, lying on his back like that, but he brought his right arm out, ready to land a punch to the side of Carter’s head. He felt Carter’s hand fist in his hair, pulling his head back, then the icy cold of a blade as it was pressed against his throat.

He froze. Fuck, he was stupid!

In his desperation to get Carter away from Warrick, he hadn’t paid attention to what Carter had done with the knife. He’d seen enough people get their throats cut – not many, but enough to know it wasn’t how he wanted to die. It wasn’t that much different from drowning.

Carter stared down at him. Toreth refused to look away. _You look into my eyes, you bastard, you watch as I die._

Toreth waited, but the expected pain from the knife didn’t come.

“Who are you? Why are you here? What do you want?” Carter shouted above the scream of the smoke alarm.

Carter’s questioning took him off guard. What the hell should he say? The man had a knife to his throat, so he didn’t think telling him he was a para-investigator would be the wisest choice. But the game – they were both players. Toreth could fall back on the game.

“Warrick promised me he wouldn’t cheat on me again, the lying bastard!” Toreth shouted back. “I saw him kissing you outside that bar, so I followed. I told him if I ever caught him cheating on me again I’d kill him.”

Carter looked stunned. “You break into my home, start a fire, and it’s all because you’re a jealous boyfriend?”

“Warrick’s _mine._ No one touches him like that but _me._ ”

“Freeze! Drop your weapon. Put your hands up where I can see them.”

The smoke alarm was so loud that neither of them had heard the Justice officers come into the room. Toreth resisted the urge to move his head and look over to them – Carter still had the knife at his throat – but from the corner of his eye he could see an officer in the doorway, pointing a gun at them.

Toreth held his breath. He hoped this officer wasn’t one of those whose only care was to make an arrest, no matter the collateral damage.

“I repeat: drop your weapon. Put your hands up where I can see them.”

Toreth felt the pressure on the blade increase, a slight sting as it began to slice into him – then Carter let the knife drop and slowly raised his hands out to the side.

Two officers rushed to Carter, one reading the warrant while the other handcuffed him. Toreth laid his head back on the floor. The air lower down wasn’t as smoky and he took in a long, deep breath, then exhaled slowly, trying to get his nerves under control. He didn’t want to think about how close that one had been.

Then he remembered Warrick.

A third officer had entered the room and walked over to Toreth as he started to get up. “Para, you’re bleeding. Are you hurt?”

It was Office Harris.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Dr. Warrick is in the bedroom. I don’t know what his condition is. Are the medics here?”

“They’re downstairs.”

“Get them up here, quick, and find a way to turn that fucking alarm off!”

Toreth rushed down the hall. Someone had brought in a smoke ejector so the flat was at least clearing of the smoke. As he got to the bedroom, the alarm finally went silent.

Toreth hurried to Warrick’s side. He sucked in his breath as he surveyed the damage – red welts were visible up and down his back, on his arse and the tops of his thighs. A few were so severe they were bleeding. Toreth’s hands clenched into fists. He wanted to kill Carter for this, but that was out of the question now that Justice was here.

Warrick turned his head and saw Toreth, then closed his eyes tight. His face was wet with tears. “Please, no more,” he said, in a scratchy voice. “Don’t hit me any more. Just fuck me and get it over with.”

It took a moment for Toreth to realize that Warrick must think he was Carter. They looked so much alike. Carter had been shirtless; Toreth had taken off his shirt to start the fire.

“Warrick, it’s me, Toreth. You’re safe now. Justice is here. They’ve got Carter. Look at me. It’s Toreth.”

Warrick looked at him again, at first confused. Then his eyes narrowed and recognition washed over his face. “Toreth…” Warrick tried to speak more but couldn’t.

The medics entered the room and came over to the bed with their equipment. Toreth stood over to the side so he wouldn’t get in their way. One of them had bolt cutters and cut through the chain on the handcuffs, releasing Warrick’s arms from the bed. The other went to work cleaning the wounds on his back. Toreth could see a bruise on Warrick’s face now too. His stomach churned at the thought of Carter hitting Warrick, hurting Warrick, fucking Warrick…

“It doesn’t look too bad, Para. He’s alive. They’ll take care of him.”

Toreth turned to see Officer Harris standing next to him. He hadn’t even heard the man enter the room, he’d been so focused on the medics and Warrick. He wondered what had shown on his face to make Harris say that.

Toreth turned back to watch. They were quick and methodical. Warrick was sitting up as they checked his eyes and reflexes. They’d got the handcuffs off and were checking his wrists. Toreth wondered what they thought of the older bruising, but they didn’t seem concerned with it, only patching up the most recent wounds. After a few more minutes, one of the medics walked over and addressed Toreth.

“I’m Senior Paramedic Reese. Dr. Warrick says he’s sore but that he feels all right and he wants you to take him home. I think that would be fine as long as someone can stay with him. We were told by the dispatcher that there might have been a sexual assault also, but he says it never got that far. We did a quick blood screen and there are traces of something, but it’s already wearing off, so there wasn’t enough left for us to identify. He says he’d felt tired and confused – there are lots of drugs that will have that effect, so I doubt we’ll ever know for sure which one was used. We’ve given him an injection to take care of the pain and another to fight any infection – some of the welts had opened and were bleeding. Do you have a way to get him home?”

Toreth wondered if the taxi was still parked around the corner at the end of the block – he’d ordered it to stay, but it all depended on the courtesy timer.

“I can give them a ride,” Harris stated.

“As long as you don’t question him on the way. It can wait until tomorrow,” Toreth told him.

Harris nodded. “Don’t worry, Para. Your admin’s been calling me every ten seconds for updates. I told her what happened and that you and Dr. Warrick are safe. I’m under strict orders from her to wait until Monday to do my interview. The last thing I want to do is to get on Sara’s bad side – she can destroy careers, you know.”

The medics left. Harris stepped out of the room so that Toreth could help Warrick dress. He was still sitting on the bed, naked, head down, looking at his hands, examining the new bruises.

Toreth wasn’t one to give comfort – he wasn’t even sure he knew how – so he simply sat next to Warrick and waited for him to speak first.

Warrick leaned against him. Toreth turned and pulled him into his arms. He supposed trying to offer comfort was a good enough excuse to hold Warrick.

“I’m so sorry,” Warrick said, his voice a bit stronger than before, but still raspy. Toreth didn’t like to think it was because he’d been screaming.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I…I promised you. I said I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else again, but I still came here with him…he kissed me, and it aroused me. He asked me to come here with him and so I did.”

Toreth’s arms stiffened slightly as Warrick spoke. It wasn’t Warrick’s fault – it had been the drug. Warrick wouldn’t have come here otherwise.

“The medic said they found something in your blood. They couldn’t say what it was because there wasn’t enough of it, but you were drugged. It’s not your fault. Do you understand? It’s not your fault.”

A nagging voice in the back of Toreth’s head wanted to argue, wanted to say that a drug like that couldn’t make Warrick do something if he didn’t already want it in some way. He ignored it and instead, tilted Warrick’s head up and kissed him lightly, not wanting to press too hard against the cut on Warrick’s lip. “Let’s go home.”

~*~

Warrick wondered how long it would be before he heard from Toreth. He expected a call but shouldn’t have been surprised when Toreth showed up at SimTech.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Toreth said as he barged into the office. Warrick’s admin had the good sense to close the door behind him.

At least Toreth was keeping his voice down, but that low tone was worse than shouting – it meant that he was even angrier than Warrick had thought he would be about the complaint.

“Toreth, sit down. Do you want some coffee?”

“Fuck the coffee! I want to know why you refused to cooperate. The charges had to be dropped. Justice couldn’t use Spencer’s complaint to hold him because she’d already falsely identified me, and she’s considered an unreliable witness now. All they had was your testimony and you rescinded your permission for its use. He’s out, a free man!”

Warrick sighed. Two days had passed since he’d been rescued by Toreth – two days of blissful make-up sex. Things had been going well between them, maybe too well. He had the suspicious feeling Toreth felt he was in competition with Carter in some way.

Now it was late afternoon on Monday. He was prepared for this, but it didn’t make it any easier. If he wasn’t careful how he phrased things, he might chase Toreth away, this time for good.

“Please, Toreth. Sit down and listen to me. Give me five minutes to explain.”

Toreth glared at him, but he sat. “Fine. Clock’s ticking.”

Warrick gave him a slight smile. “Thank you for hearing me out. I spoke with one of SimTech’s legal representatives. After reviewing the facts, he determined that it was doubtful that Carter would be convicted. What it comes down to is my word against his. There isn’t any way to prove he drugged me or that I didn’t want to go to his flat. You weren’t able to get a waiver to interrogate him – I’m not sure I’d want that anyway. A search of the attendees list for the conferences I’d been to over the past few months shows that he was at one of the same ones…” He stammered a moment, uncomfortable with having to bring it up again, but there was no other way. “He was at the same one where I spent time with Girardin. Spencer’s name was on the list too. He must have picked us out from there.”

Toreth’s face was stone. Warrick waited, giving him a moment to process that one, then continued. “Going into court, making everything public, would hurt SimTech’s image at a critical time in our development. There’s simply no point – it would do more harm than good.”

“I should have known that’s all you care about – SimTech’s image! The fucker hurt you, he touched you, he would have _fucked_ you if I hadn’t gone back to the bar and seen you with him.”

Warrick rubbed his hands over his face. He was getting a headache now. This was where things might get tricky. “It’s not just SimTech. It’s us.”

“What do you mean, it’s us?”

“If I had to go to court, Carter’s legal team would have carte blanche to ask me about my sex life. I’d have to tell them about the things we do. Carter spotted the bruises around my wrists. He used them as a way to…to get to me. Do you really want the world to know about…about us?”

Toreth pressed his lips together. Warrick could see him thinking, see the different scenarios going through his mind. He would understand in the end, why Warrick wouldn’t pursue the complaint. It wasn’t because he didn’t want people to know about them – it was because he didn’t want people to know that Toreth did the exact same things to him that Carter had done, and more – much, much more.

The five minutes passed. Warrick waited in silence. Finally Toreth spoke, but all the anger seemed to be gone.

“I hate when corporates get away with things like this. It happens all the time. And I won’t even be able to go after Carter myself now because I’d be the first one Justice would pick up.”

“He’s not worth it – not to me, anyway. I just want to put it behind us, forget about it and move on. Do you think you can do that?” _Do you think you can forget I went home with another man after I promised you I wouldn’t?_

Toreth gave him a calculating look, then smiled. “I don’t know – maybe. Why don’t we go back to your place and see if you can _make_ me forget.”

At least for now, Toreth wasn’t running away.

~*~

Fin - December, 2010

~*~


End file.
